


The Coffee Shop AU

by quixoticquest



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Awkward Flirting, M/M, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-06 03:37:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15877719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quixoticquest/pseuds/quixoticquest
Summary: Based on this prompt: “both work at the coffee shop and talk sometimes but that's enough to make each of them fall for each other. one day business is slow so richie and eddie get some coffee and have a mini date in their own job!! boom then they're rlly in love and they all live happily ever after”





	The Coffee Shop AU

“I’m sorry ma’am, the peppermint bark latte is a seasonal drink. We don’t serve it until December.”

“What? Are you kidding me?” The woman across the counter levelled an incredulous glare at Eddie, as if he had spit in her face instead of reporting something he thought to be very reasonable. “I drove all the way here and you don’t have it?”

“We don’t. It’s a holiday drink,” Eddie answered, clinging to the scripted explanations that usually worked on perfectly rational customers. Who the fuck wanted a hot mint chocolate coffee in the summer anyway?

This woman, however, was anything but rational. “Can’t you just grab some syrup from the back, or whatever the hell you use to make it? It’s not that hard to flavor a latte.”

“We don’t have what we use to flavor it, ma’am. Since it’s, y’know, June?”

“Don’t get fresh with me! I know what month it is!”

“Then you should  _ know  _ we don’t have any fuc-”

“Whoa there, amigo.” The edge in Eddie’s voice died off as his coworker sidled up next to him - as if there was any room in front of the POS for two. “That’s no way to talk to a customer as lovely as any other.” Smooth as you like, Richie took over, laying it on thick. “No worries, ma’am, we might not have peppermint bark, but I’ll tell you what we do have - mint, and mocha. I’ll whip you up a latte with both and you won’t even know the difference. We don’t have the peppermint flakes to sprinkle on top but I can do chocolate shavings. Whaddaya say?”

For a tense moment, they glared between the three of them,  _ The Good, the Bad and the Ugly _ style. Eddie wasn’t sure where he and Richie fell but he was pretty damn certain this nuisance customer was decidedly  _ the Ugly _ .

“I guess that’s fine,” she finally grumbled, leaving Eddie to wonder where that grudging acceptance had been when he was dishing out facts.

“Awesome! Eds here’ll ring you up for that. You want any whipped cream?”

“Just to melt into the latte? No thank you.”

The awful woman passed over a wad of bills and moved on to the pickup counter without even dropping her change in the tip jar. When no one came through the dinky door at the front of the shop, and no one to the register, Eddie took up the flimsy plastic sleeve of hot cups Richie had been using to stock up, before he swooped in to save the day.

“I could have handled that,” he mumbled next to Richie as he shoved cups into the rack, unable to use his normal volume with the Peppermint Bark Bitch within earshot.

“You could have,” Richie exclaimed, nodding enthusiastically, squirting equal parts mocha and mint into the steaming cup in his hand. “You would have cursed her out and it would have been glorious. I might weep hot tears of joy just thinking about it. But also, like, you probably would have gotten fired, which isn’t so glorious, ya know? ‘Specially since I’d be so lost without you.”

Richie winked, and topped the dumb latte off with a sprinkle of the aforementioned chocolate shavings, before passing it down to the pickup counter. Eddie stood there, hands planted on his hips, frowning - doing a very good impression of someone who didn’t get flustered at the mercy of one stupid wink.

With that awful woman on her merry stupid way, the rest of the shop appeared exceedingly empty. Four o’clock on a weekday in the summer wasn’t the most prolific hour for a small town coffee shop, with lunchtime passed and the morning rush long over - which meant all they could really do before their shift was over, was clean and restock until someone else came in.

When it came to maintenance, Eddie always worked faster than Richie, wiping down the machines and filling the cups and lids like a champ - while the dumb brunet spent ten minutes at a time with a rag in the pastry case. Depending on how long they had been there, he may or may not start whining too. Whatever the reason for Richie’s shitty cleaning ethic, though, he made up for it in spades with his customer service. How he got through the full five or six hours without throwing a piping hot cup of coffee in some asshole’s face, Eddie would never know.

“This is boring,” Richie huffed,  _ already  _ whining as he crossed his arms leaning over the counter, where the orange afternoon sun set all the muted browns in the wood and his hair and apron to sepia. “I dunno why mid shift has to do this. Night shift does a whole fucking sweep of the place and God knows only the truckers and drunks are gonna be in here then.”

“Maybe food service isn’t for you,” Eddie mentioned, just barely managing to keep the smile from curling in the corner of his mouth.

“You’re right.” The four-eyed brunet sighed as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders (he didn’t), spinning to perch the other way, with his elbows balanced on the counter. His voice took on a soulful southern twang. “Mama always told me to get outta this one horse town. That I was born for the  _ stage _ . That we’re  _ all _ born superstars. She’d roll my hair, and put my lipstick on, in the glass of her boud-”

He got a face full of coffee-soaked rag, courtesy of Eddie. “Those are the lyrics to  _ Born This Way _ !”

Richie snickered and caught the rag against his chest, lobbing it away with just enough accuracy that it landed in the sink. When he laughed, all his big front teeth showed between his lips, nose wrinkled around short breaths. It wasn’t a standard definition of  _ attractive  _ by any means, but there was something unique, and charming about it that Eddie had come to know.

He didn’t realize he was staring until Richie transitioned entirely, hauling himself up to stand straight, for once.

“You don’t belong here either,” he mentioned, pointing a finger toward Eddie’s chest. “I’d peg you for a lawyer, but I’m not sure that mouth of yours would fly with the judge.”

“ _ You’re  _ one to talk,” Eddie retorted. Truthfully, he didn’t know what he wanted, or where he wanted to be. Just that this job payed a little better than minimum wage, included tips, and would hopefully get him somewhere better, someday.

He could think of  _ one _ thing he might want though, glancing sidelong at Richie, aimlessly tidying the display next to the counter. And he didn’t even have to pay for it at all.

“I can’t really think of anything else to straighten up,” Eddie admitted eventually, rubbing his teeth over his bottom lip as his gaze trailed around the service area.

“You know what that means. Break time!” Spinning on the heels of his worn-out Chuck Taylors, Richie yanked a plastic cup from the stand - indication enough that he was going for his usual frozen favorite. “I’m making myself a drink.” 

Suddenly, spurred by his presumption, an absurd idea came over Eddie. Without really thinking, he came forward and snatched the cup out of Richie’s hand, with all the gusto of someone following through with a concise course of action. This, however, was anything but.

“I know how you take yours,” he finally said, his mouth working at the same speed as his brain. “Bet I can make it perfectly.”

Richie blinked for a way too long second, long enough that Eddie’s blood started rushing with the weight of how stupid he was being. But finally, the idiot’s face took on a look of mock judgement, and he crossed his arms with put-upon petulance.

“Alright, Edspresso, do your worst.”

Calm again, and set to task, Eddie set the cup down on the prep counter and got to work. “A  _ large _ caramel mocha frappe, no espresso,” he explained, narrating his actions with a dramatic roll of his eyes as he shovelled ice, milk and syrup into the blender. For a few seconds the tiny coffee shop filled with the buzz of the spinning blades, and Eddie remained silent until the noise settled, along with the thick concoction.

“Caramel drizzle around the cup,” he continued, demonstrating just so (with expert drizzling skill, if he did say so himself). He poured the frappe mixture into the cup, and darted away to grab the whipped cream can out of the ice bin. “Extra extra  _ extra  _ whipped cream, and to top it all off, caramel  _ and  _ chocolate drizzle.”

When all was said and done, with the dome lid capped over a mountain of whipped cream shooting out the hole in the middle, Eddie presented drink and straw to Richie, smiling rather smugly.

“In short, a diabetic coma waiting to happen.”

That familiar, toothy grin split onto Richie’s face, and he slow clapped for Eddie (a ridiculous gesture that definitely didn’t have him several sorts of secretly flattered).

“Well how ‘bout that.” The frappe passed from Eddie’s hands into Richie’s and he took a sip off the straw, indulging a few lip-smacks, wafting the cup under his nose as if it were wine. “Not bad, Eds, not bad. Your top drizzle is a little sloppy but I know the nozzle on the chocolate is fucked. Solid nine and a half.”

“Oh buzz off, Richie.” Eddie made to jab the idiot in the ribs but Richie was too fast, side-stepping with all the grace of a gangly newborn horse. The idiot then set his frozen confection on the counter, and plucked out another plastic cup.

“Now for  _ you _ .” Winking again, Richie bopped the cup against Eddie’s nose, but was gone before the shorter brunet could protest - and the potential of Richie knowing how he took his coffee was just too great to resist, and so he clammed up.

“Medium iced hazelnut,” Richie began easily, with the tone and air of a proper English butler whilst shovelling ice and squirting flavoring. “Little less ice. Two sugars, two skim, two shots of espresso - which is probably why you’re so wound up all the time, but that’s none of my business.”

A sprinkle of sugar here and a spot of milk there and he filled the rest of the cup with coffee, gave it a good mix, and snapped a lid on before finally offering the drink to Eddie. “Short and sweet, just like you.”

“Wow, thanks,” Eddie mentioned, almost tightly as he took the coffee out of Richie’s hands, lips twitching as he fought yet  _ another _ smile. Judging by Richie, who couldn’t  _ resist _ a smile, he probably thought he had done a fantastic job. And to some extent, he had.

“But this is my morning order,” Eddie declared, closing his lips over the straw for a sip anyway.

Richie’s face fell. “What?!”

“Two espresso shots in the afternoon? Are you fucking nuts? My heart’ll give out.” Eddie rolled his eyes and scoffed. “If I get iced coffee later in the day I ditch the espresso and go one skim. I might even get a small too.”

“Well that’s not my fault! Sorry I don’t know the inner workings of your complicated coffee regimen!”

“Shut up, you dumbass,” Eddie griped. Before his lips could stretch to much, he took another sip, affectively quelling any inclination to smile. No way he was going to let himself finish the entire caffeine-pumped drink, though. “Besides, you were technically right anyways.”

Richie seemed satisfied with that at least, taking a moment to lick off the whipped cream puffing out over his cup. Eddie watched him for a moment, out of the corner of his eye. Even if his coffee hadn’t been completely right, there was something sort of delightful, knowing Richie had noticed enough to get his usual order down like that. All those mornings on the way to class, when Richie was scheduled and Eddie wasn’t. Busy with the regulars, and still managing to remember all those details.

Eddie could only wonder if Richie remembered them for all the same reasons.

“Hey, can I try?” Richie asked all of a sudden. “I’ve never had hazelnut before.”

“I thought you didn’t like espres-” Without warning, Richie’s head loomed down and close, and just when Eddie thought he might steal a sip from the straw, he shifted forward instead, slotting their lips together. 

Richie’s mouth was cold from his frappe, and his breath tasted like mocha more than it tasted like caramel. Eddie blinked for a few endless seconds, heat creeping up into his ears and cheeks, until his friend and coworker finally slipped away - still bent at eye-level.

“Well hey,” Richie murmured, voice low as his dark eyes glinted behind his thick glasses. “Hazelnut tastes pretty good.”

Eddie shoved his hand up into Richie’s face, heart pounding as the idiot yelped and stumbled back. They calmed down just in time for the bell to tinkle over the door, and work and routine resumed in the little coffee shop once again.


End file.
